Bliss. Kathryn Littlewood

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      But Rose wasn’t like other girls her age. Rose had responsibilities.

      The frantic whirring of the motorcycle slowed a bit as it pulled into the driveway. But this was not Devin Stetson’s rusty red moped – this was a gleaming black beast with a head shaped like a bull, with a silver saddle and sharp silver horns for handlebars. A figure sheathed entirely in black leather hopped off the saddle and leaned against the body of the motorcycle.

      Rose’s heart raced. There had already been too many ominous people in her driveway that day.

      She turned to see if Chip was still watching from the kitchen window – Chip would be able to tackle this person, whoever it was, if it came to that – but he was nowhere to be found.

      Rose stepped in front of Leigh to guard her.

      The figure removed its black helmet with gloved hands coated in silver spikes.

      The rider was a young woman – the tallest, most sensational-looking woman Rose had ever seen outside of a movie screen. She had strong black eyebrows, a long Roman nose and short black hair cropped close to her scalp in a chic pixie cut. Her full lips were painted red, and her big white teeth glinted in the sun. She was the kind of woman who looked like she belonged in the pages of a magazine – the kind of woman Rose secretly wished she would grow up to become.

      “Ahhhhh!!!” the woman exclaimed. “Fresh air! A small town! I love a small town!” She tossed a throaty laugh to the sky, then undid the metal clasps on her black leather jacket and tossed it on to the bike. She was wearing a lacy blue shirt underneath, much like the one Rose was wearing.

      “You must be Rosemary!” she said, sauntering towards the swing. She indicated her shirt. “Look at us! We’re twins!”

      When the woman in the black leather got close enough, Leigh bolted into the kitchen, leaving Rose clutching the rusty metal chains of the swing.

      “Don’t look so frightened, pet! I’m your aunt Lily!”

      This woman, whoever she was, was smiling from ear to ear with all of her gleaming fancy white teeth. Could Rose really be related to someone so… beautiful? She looked more like a fashion model than an aunt.

      Rose conjured up a mental image of the Bliss family tree she’d made for an assignment on genealogy back in the third grade – it was a short, very wide piece of white poster board on which she’d drawn her and her siblings’ names: Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, Thyme; and above that, her parents’ names: Albert Hogswaddle, Purdy Bliss. Her aunts and uncles on her father’s side were Aunt Alice, Aunt Janine and weird Uncle Lewis. On her mother’s side: no one. There was no Lily. The name did ring a bell, but Rose couldn’t remember why.

      “Is your mother here?” she asked. “Oh, I hope I came at a good time! I miss old Purdy Bliss!”

      Rose spoke cautiously. “My mother never told me she had a younger sister.”

      Lily laughed again, her long neck arched back. “She doesn’t!”

      Rose must have looked confused. “I’m not your aunt, per se,” Lily said. “Your mother’s great-great-great-grandfather Filbert Bliss had a brother named Albatross, and that was my great-great-great-grandfather, so I believe that makes us… fifth cousins once removed! But Aunt Lily has such a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

      Rose pictured the family tree in her mind’s eye, trying to remember if there were any Albatrosses or Filberts, but the tree morphed into a twisted, overgrown thicket.

      “Anyway, I heard my dear Purdy had a baby! And started a bakery!”

      “Four babies,” said Rose, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand.

      “Well! Seems I’m a little late!”

      Lily sauntered back to the motorcycle and began removing her gloves, finger by finger. “You see, I am a baker as well! I’ve published a cookbook – well, I published it myself. But it’s the same difference! I even had my own radio show for a few months – Lily’s Ladle! Surely you heard about it!”

      Rose had never heard of a radio show called Lily’s Ladle, but she suddenly remembered where she’d heard the name Lily. It was several years ago. One night after dinner, Rose was helping her father clear the dishes while Purdy took a phone call. It was the kind of phone call where her mother didn’t do much talking, but just leaned against the kitchen counter, speechless, wrapping the cord round her finger, then unwrapping.

      When she hung up, Rose and Albert stared at her, waiting.

      “It was Lily,” she said. Albert’s eyes went wide. “She found us. She wants to come for a visit.”

      Albert winced. “You said no, right?”

      “Of course,” said Purdy.

      “Who is Lily?” asked Rose.

      “No one,” said Purdy, heading upstairs.

      Rose snapped out of her memory, then walked up to Lily and tapped her on the shoulder. “Come to think of it, I have heard of you. My mother talked to you on the phone a while back. She didn’t want you to come for a visit,” Rose said, her heart beating thunderously. “Why didn’t she want you to come for a visit?”

      Lily raised her eyebrows. “A long time ago, my great-great-great-grandfather Albatross had a terrible fight with your great-great-great-grandfather Filbert, and now Purdy won’t speak to me, and it’s such a shame. So I’ve come here to mend old fences!”

      “You mean… old bridges?” said Rose.

      “Exactly!” Lily smiled. “Look, darling, I know you don’t believe me, but I am your cousin! Or your aunt! Same difference! I have the family mark to prove it!”

      Lily turned round and pulled down one side of the back of her blue shirt, revealing her shoulder blade, which was as elegant as an angel’s wing. Rose squinted and saw a strange birthmark, a blob with a long handle of dark trailing off it, the end hooked.

      Rose had one just like it on the side of her leg. Leigh had one on her neck. Purdy had one on her arm. Ty and Sage both had one on their stomachs. They all had one.

      “See, darling?”

      Sage ran out from the kitchen to investigate the black bull that had landed in the driveway. He saw the mark on Lily’s back and shouted, “You’ve got the ladle!”

      Lily spun round and tried to hoist Sage’s hefty torso up in her arms, then thought better of it and set him down. “You must be Sage!”

      Sage giggled and squirmed. “Who are you?”

      Lily pressed a finger to his nose and rubbed it back and forth. “I’m your aunt Lily!” she said, and curtseyed with a flourish. “And I’ve come to rejoin my family!”

      “My mother isn’t here,” Rose said, fidgeting with the СКАЧАТЬ